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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033961">The Lion of Tadfield</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter'>Augenblickgotter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ladycrowe and the Lion of Tadfield [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett, Ladyhawke (1985)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Animal Transformation, Aziraphale is Patient (Good Omens), Battlefield, Crowley in the isabeau role, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), Love Conquers All, M/M, Middle Ages, More tags to be added, Opposites Attract, Pining, aziraphale as a knight, aziraphale in the navarre role, bad ass aziraphale, bentley is goliath, crowley as a kinght, fairy tale, gabriel is the creepy boss at work hitting on you, ladycrowe, lusting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:35:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The prequel to the Good Omens/Ladyhawke mashup, Ladycrowe.<br/>The city of Tadfield finds temporary peace and unity under Archbishop Derek along with effort by the Captain of the Guard, Aziraphale. But other machinations are afoot in the Guard and Diocese. Aziraphale finds himself fighting the save the city he loves, and to be the noble Lion to his friends and enemies he's expected to be. He finds himself also unabashedly falling a mysterious new recruit with Sorcerer talents and serpent eyes who just wants to find a home in a world that doesn't seem to want him. Things plummet into darker territory when it becomes a question of loyalty and control to church, city, and anyone he cares for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ladycrowe and the Lion of Tadfield [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Lion of Tadfield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/astral_gravy/gifts">astral_gravy</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapOfFaith1489/gifts">LeapOfFaith1489</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/gifts">elf_on_the_shelf</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenner/gifts">tenner</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/gifts">dragonimp</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonymistress/gifts">moonymistress</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A YEAR ago I started writing the original <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413172/chapters/53550457"><span>La</span><span>dyCrowe</span></a>, thank you for the love and support for my first fic. I could never have done it without the urging of friends and new friends I made and helped me restart myself.<br/>-This is the 80's movie Middle Ages. Vague, no textbook accuracy. The end.<br/>-Yes, I wrote a sequel and prequel in my head while writing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413172/chapters/53550457"><span>La</span><span>dyCrowe</span></a>. Deal with it.<br/>RATING and TAGS may be added/changed.<br/>SPOILER/ANGST WARNING- This will end on a truly sad note ( I AM WARNING YOU, and if that's too much to handle, I can tell you there's a super happy sequel that fixes everything!)<br/>DEATHS/DRAMA- Some deaths, violence, battlefield trauma, and intense situations.<br/>NON-CON warning; There will be dubious and nonconsensual moves by the antagonist on one of the protagonists. These won't get overly explicit, BUT it's still triggering for some and gets the tag.<br/>MATURE ELEMENTS- I will gladly mark out chapters and keep them separate if you really don't want this clouded with deeper intimacy. But since Ladycrowe is literally all pining, well, I need to make up for it. Watch the tags as it progresses.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"And thus ends our current epoch of strife." Bishop Gabriel gave a dramatic pause. He scanned the face and gracefully parted his hands forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And with that, a new era of peace shall prevail under our Lord, long may he live, and guidance from our beloved Archbishop Derek, longer may he live!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The rest of the clergy and few guards and men of arms in the sacred confines of the Church's closed consul room murmured in weary approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every eye in the room nodded their gaze towards the silent Archbishop, seated in his chair. Stooped over in his years, his already pale hair thin and spidering over a somber but pleasant face. The only acknowledgment he returned was a blink of his liquid blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Archbishop nodded in that grave manner that assured an ending but no conviction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Another stop in many leaks to our hull," he agreed. "But should a man remove his fingers to stop others, what becomes of the previous ones? Hmm? I fear these small trickles shall flood our hull before long."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wise words, " Gabriel flattered. "So many small leaks have been the problem of this city, and I am not saying I am proud of previous manners to deal with them..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wise words," echoed Derek. "The Church should never find pride in the pain of another for the sake of control..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We've been over this enough, my Lord." Gabriel remained lively but firm. "I'm not saying mistakes were or were not made, but let's be sure; the Church always thought for the better of the people in the end."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek sifted and turned his head, not pressing with his words and disgruntled posture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The church is a voice of God to the ear that is man, yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A general murmur of agreement filtered through the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And listen, they should," Gabriel admitted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...And the Church," Derek cut in with sudden conviction, "In return is an ear to hear the voice if the man that makes it..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"God made man," Gabriel corrected, pressing his hands together and levering on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I believe man </span>
  <em>
    <span>makes</span>
  </em>
  <span> God," Derek contended, holding the arms of his chair and bowing his head, but not his eyes to Gabriel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Man is not above God," simpered Gabriel protectively as if They were seated right beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And no man is above another man." Derek tipped his head back, still staring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The surrounding church members whispered and tittered at the repartee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a man wholly devoted to the Church, Derek was known to find tiny flaws in the Churches way of thinking and was never afraid to challenge them. Gabriel, equally devoted, welcomed any argument and attacked with his smooth theological shelter that seemed to be God-given. And don't ask him because it's obvious he'd say it was. More so than most men. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Or course!' Gabriel held his hands aloft and pulled everyone in the room to him with his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're all created equal here!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Enough," The Bishop huffed with a tired hand wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't sell me that. I've known you long enough. Let's return to the matter at hand on that note, shall we?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel never lost the smile as he folded his hands together. The meeting mentally shuffled back into order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The New Order, replacing the Pure Order. Our Lord and Liege agreed to the measure shortly before this year began."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A new sound went through the group. One of enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I, for one," Derek quickly granted, "Shall agree to its progress."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It has opened talks with neighboring cities," one of the accompanying field Commanders said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It freed many in the prisons for crimes based upon their origins," one of the Guards added. "The cells are much emptier, and it has warmed new-coming families to stay in our cities without persecution."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And," newly appointed Bishop Uriel injected, "it opened talks with several religious rivals we've been in deadlock."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Diocese nodded among themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The common man didn't very much love the Guard," the Under-Captain added with an exasperated tone, "But now they don't view us all as just out to imprison a man because he ain't from Tadfield."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, I admit," Gabriel interjected, "The methods for the Order before may have been too much for the common man to see how and why they would have benefits over time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another Guard leaned forward, provoked and grim. "Our Captain warned of too much force on the people, in return, the people cared not a care for the cause of your so-called order."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel raised a hand and bobbed his head in assurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We never said the movement would be easy or welcome, but the call to order in time is better for what we've ..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Enough," huffed the Archbishop laboriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Purity is not what our times seek. It has been shown through open arms that even a temporary peace prevails."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ahh, yes." Gabriel pushed towards the newest documents. "The ambitious Captain of the Guard has fully ordered for that motion. Despite any word for the better, it appears he has full support for it..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The Lords give nothing but approval," Uriel gently sliced in with her patient voice, "As does the Church. I see no further reason to keep arguing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Same for the troops," the Under Captain confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As he has mine," The Archbishop ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like an oversized ax slamming into the table, it could be felt that was the final word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel could only bow slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So is your word. He'll be most pleased."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Under-Captain, Michael was still standing at attention by the deadbolted entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a less than discreet huff as she leaned against the intricately carved inner chamber doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The Captain may not speak for the Guard on the whole." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel impassively leaned an engaged ear her way, though most of the others pretended not to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A Captain can't think with only his heart," she continued. "A cool head must prevail. This is nothing personal, just professional.."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Enough," Derek dismissed. "Don't any of you pretend to hide what you feel. I may be old, but I am not blind. And my professional opinion says you need not let your grudge of him chosen over yourself should be viewed as professional. There. Now, back to finishing this nonsense. This piece has only come through unity, and that is all I can strive for at this time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others around the table hummed in mute compliance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And, by the way, my good knight," Derek leaned happily to Michael, "Who is your Captain again?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aziraphale," they answered loudly, restoring their posture upright, feeling the burn on their cheeks flush as red at their tightly wound hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah yes!" Derek nodded to Gabriel, who never lost his grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A charming young man. I have been most impressed with all he's done for Tadfield. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Disagreements aside," Gabriel conceded, "I have to admit, he continues to surprise me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Bishop rose, and the others bobbed up from their seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very good then, the day after the morrow begins the true start of New Order."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Captain of the Guard was seated at his desk, an elbow down to it, his face curled against the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a whirlwind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Page. Squire. Knight. Field Commander. All so fast, like jumping a step to another. The years seemed to roll like a stray cartwheel down a hill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Captain of the Guard. Only his first year as that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And already, he had proven to be a leader of his charge, capable in battle. And now capable of brokering a peace between the cities within his own. His patient way hadn't just won matches; it now was winning hearts and minds. These were goals that he set and fought long and hard to fulfill for the city he loved. And now it was all coming to an end in the best way possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was exhausted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all he had set for, hadn't it? To be a perfect knight. To be a commendable solider. To bring honor and bravery. To always be fair, kind, just, strong. And now his counsel was shaping the city. Even when he stopped to drink in the scope of what he was causing, for the better he hoped, he found he hadn't just caused ripples; he was now a steady stream moving men and ideas forward. And there was no fighting the current and turning back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed as he shifted his chin onto his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Captain! Captain!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> they cried after his first battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Captain! Captain!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>the city now called to him to stop the fear and persecution.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>"Captain! Captain!" </em>
  </b>
  <span>they now demanded today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain? Sir?" came with a knocking at his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale shook his head and yanked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His page entered. Newton was young, fumbling, still inexperienced, and prone to the clumsiness befit of a child. But Aziraphale was hardly bothered by any of this and proved to be the most patient Master. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"And it's not like I wasn't told I wasn't clumsy or inexperienced before."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uhm, Sir? Shall you suit up for the proclamation, Sir?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh yes, another proclamation. Like the Religious Order needs a ceremony each day to ensure it's mind is made up."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course, thank you, Newton."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale closed the book and sighed at scrolls, pages, and books that obscured his desktop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I can command a whole Guard, have envoy with the lords, ladies and Church, and my desk looks like this today. Perhaps I am getting old.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood as Newton approached with his overclock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, lad," murmured Aziraphale while Newton slipped it on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, sir, for everything you've done for us." Newton stepped back and moved to open the door. "My family has been at greater ease, if you understand what I say."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Newton's family was like so many in the city that were questioned under the Pure Order. Perhaps the parents came in recently from other cities, perhaps their family names didn't sound local, perhaps their accents were strange. All of these were subject to the question under The Order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you are welcome, lad," he quietly smiled. "You can thank our beloved Bishop as well for finally lending an ear of reason."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Forgive me, sir, uhm, All the same, sir," Newton apologized, "It took a voice for the ear to hear."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wondered if Newton was just trying to cheer from being so anxious lately. Well, it was working.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The unusually tall man clad in black on top of an unusually giant horse bounced along on the saddle regretting everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted he gave knighthood a chance because it wasn't worth the agony of riding in his armor on a horse. He regretted riding in armor on his horse because it was one big bloody mistake in retrospect (to hell with first impressions, but he should have learned that years ago), he regretted he even signed to this even with how ideal it initially sounded, he regretted God ever made horses because the design was clearly flawed to be sitting atop, even with no armour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted he ever was born; life was one bubbling pot of misery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tadfield. Oh yes, he had been here once or twice, passing through. Another in a long line of nice little cities that didn't particularly seem friendly beyond the usual places to pay for a night's rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was aware of the political mire they were in and seemed synonymous with their name. But really, Crowley wasn't a political man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The offer was just too good to be ignored; any capable Knight of any realm was welcome. Even though a peace was currently brokered with whatever the petty spat was, there was an open call to more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this called for any, no matter their nationality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To fight and live as brothers and sisters under one banner with the call of the New Order," the letter had read.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Huh. New Order, Pure Order, Who Cares What It's Called Order. Just have to come up with a fancy way of saying let's pretend we can get along or a reason not to get along. As long as people don't bother me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he neared the city and the traffic on the road increased, a tiny ember of tranquillity sparked up. He saw others obviously on the same trek as him in every size and shape imaginable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more diverse the crowd, the less he stood out. A tall thin man clad in black on a black monsterous charger was calling for attention (he couldn't help it if his sense of style was too much for most people.) But a tall man in black with medium length wavy red hair and golden slitted serpent-like eyes was hard to miss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet as far as looks went, Crowley wasn't the most unusual person to be found. He had seen others with horns, tails, and features that were truly more interesting and hard to ignore. As a matter of fact, with a little concealment, he could pass through a day without much scrutiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was like just having just the smallest differences was reason enough for him to be unwelcome. And that was just physical differences. Like every other person in the world could smell he was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And that was the thing, Crowley very much was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed through the outer villages and farms with deliberate speed. No use lingering in those areas, though less populated people often were wilder to outsiders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped at the first group of grey-and white-clad Tadfield troops. One waved expectantly at the sight of him, and Crowley pulled out his letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard read it, checked the mark, scanned over the horse and rider with no ceremony, and handed back the note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Welcome to Tadfield. Follow the main road. Keep the letter handy. You'll need it to get over the drawbridge. Just follow where the crowd is going."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley spurred past and saw the outline of the city walls with the spires of the Church peeping above it. He felt the tiny jitters of anticipation, not in excitement but the feelings that came with every new place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he had that normal desire to be seen and felt, perhaps even allowed to stay somewhere one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many years, and he knew that sense would be short and temporary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether he made sure no one wanted him to stay or he was pressured, places and people never lasted. They couldn't.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He politely steered the charger past pedestrians and carts as he found a natural line forming at the drawbridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gazed at the land around while top his mount waiting for the next cart to be checked or the next peasant to squabble over entry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Early Spring air wasn't just pleasant but already blooming life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A verdant blush of light greens powdered the fields and tree lines, speckled with flowers and blossoms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley almost felt the connection with everything at that moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"If it were all as simple and welcoming as spring and bloom. That’s what the older ones said when I was young. Hmm, funny how those things make sense when you get older.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind flashed back to that orchard near his home. Above him, treetops like ship sails made of petals, bees thrumming it alive. His mother was calling back to him to come in, or he'd get stung. Crowley grinned wickedly, turned fast, and dashed deeper into the grove. His mother was protesting loudly, and he felt her irritated glare, but all he heard was the droning around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, you!" A voice shouted. Crowley blinked and turned, feeling a new glare stabbing at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the armor-clad men at the gate gestured directly at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Black on the black horse! What's your business?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley urged his ride forward and whipped the document out as he halted. The guard read it as if he had never seen such a document in his life while another guard strolled questioningly nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley just frowned from the saddle, wondering if they were trying to provoke him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"No worries, I'm not hard to provoke, fellows."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, very well." The first looked disappointed as he handed it back to Crowley and nodded to his comrade. "You may enter. You came a long way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I did," Crowley replied with no emotion.</span>
  <em>
    <span> "If they are still looking for an issue with me, even I'm not looking for a fight before I get to cross the damn bridge."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"</span>
  </em>
  <span>Answers why you are late. Most of the invited have arrived."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Came as fast as I could."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You understand you are to serve our liege and Lord of Tadfield, and the Church for which we stand?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Crowley said. "Obviously. Like the letter said. I came a long way for that all."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then head for the barracks and find your Captain, center of town. You'll have lodging set up for you at this time." The Guard moved to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Much obliged," Crowley muttered, kicking the horse's side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You probably will just miss him, I warn you," the other guard shouted out. "But he'll be giving a speech in the Churchyard shortly where the men shall be gathering."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sure he'll be hard to miss then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__________________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bishop Derek appeared to be carved of the same stone as the Church as the last fussing was put to his robes by some of the brothers and friars. The open room next to the balcony was cloudy from the amount of incense wafting to it's freedom outside. The soft Spring morning light turned the whole room into a chamber of illuminated fog. The mighty ship that was Gabriel slid through it towards The Bishop, bearing his crosier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A most excellent morning to you, my Master."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"With all the cursed smoke about it's hard to tell up from down here, much less if it's day or night."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel laughed as he held forth the staff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It is the start of a new beginning, that we can be sure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brother Shadwell’s distinctly loud and gravelly cough emerged from the cloud somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ye, if ye askin’ me-haack- I’d sey it’s the endin’ of times, what with the smoke an all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always the charmer, Brother,” Gabriel chortled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dinna care for charm,” he snorted as he headed for the door. “Don’t ye all choke before ya’ make it out. And dinna let Young Lord Derek accidentally walk off the bloody balcony cause’ he can’t see it!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>__________________</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale normally disliked embarking to duty fully dressed. That was for battle. He even preferred to walk on foot through the city for short distances. But not today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton helped him clad and saddle on his white charger and set him off with an unneeded salute and well wishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The occasional shout and cheer from the random citizen was heartening, but also slightly embarrassing. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I am but a common man, a humble servant to my city. I was born here and I would do anything for the City that loves me so. " </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley carefully tried to weave through the crowd, but it was more akin to a festival with how the people rushed about. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Well, at least I don't appear to be the center of attention at this moment. And dammit I'm hungry. Maybe one of these times I will remember to stop and eat."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many of the vendors were closed or otherwise occupied in anticipation of the announcement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley didn't feel like unseating from his horse to have to get back on it. His eyes caught a cart nearby with apples. They were imported from some warmer land for the occasion since the trees were merely in bloom now. But it was enough for Crowley as he slowed his horse nearby and reached into his pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oi," he called, feeling the quick sight of the vendor owner feather over him and then move away in feigned ignorance. "Coin for an apple?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman bustled in some invisible task and continued to ignore Crowley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For a Knight of the Order then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did glance his way, and Crowley felt the revulsion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Knight of the Order?" she huffed. "Your armour innit' to the Order."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"So much for being nice and so much for dressing up for first impressions. Perhaps unique black armour with a hissing serpent on the breastplate wasn't the most favorable look."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley flicked the coin, pretending to be unfazed, feeling curious eyes now fixed on him. He had failed to notice a child near the disagreeable woman. Small, bird eyed, and beskirted with a bright handkerchief around it's head. Right at the perfect age Crowley liked; young enough to be curious to him but barely enough for their parents to fill their heads with blighted beings Crowley clearly had to be the spawn of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Armour doesn't make the knight if that bothers you," he muttered, "The decree does. Now, enough of that, I have come far enough and merely ask for an apple. Coin is yours."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He flicked it up again and caught it. He could lace his motions with temptation. That was always the perfect trick to make people do foolish things, usually with card games and dice gambling. It is an easy way for Crowley to gather more unlucky coins at a moment's notice or entice a peasant. But most peasants fell for the mere sight of money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child looked upward towards what must be their mother and back at Crowley. Crowley could hear confused thoughts; "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why aren't you giving it to him?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> The resolute wench pouted further and crossed her arms, standing behind the cart. She reached out and pulled a coarse woven blanket over the stack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Done for the hour, come back later in the day."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But.." piped the confused child's voice. The mother merely looked back down as an order for silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley snapped the coin and final time as he moved it back to his pocket, already feeling the uninvited judgments rekindled in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Don't waste time arguing with this one, I don't need to give the wrong impression before I even join the..."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Or perhaps," chimed a man's voice "My, dear lady, If you are so knowledgeable about the Order you could take up your personal grievances with me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley had let his guard down in his anguish and now felt another gaze from behind. The Wench stiffened before performing a curt bow. The little girl smiled and did a rudimentary courtesy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley turned in the saddle to see the brightest armor-clad knight on the whitest horse he'd ever encountered. The man and animal were a solid unit, moving like a ship under perfect sailing conditions; a smooth unbroken flowing canter as they approached. Crowley barely saw the face, even with the visor of the helmet up. All his mind filled with was how perfectly serene the man and horse moved, despite the armour and trappings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt out their gaze but there was nothing judgemental or even personal about it, just a snap of irritation at the woman with the apples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shook from his trance when he heard a childish giggle and felt a tug at his leg. He looked down to the girl's cheerful upturned face, holding up an apple as far as she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley retrieved the coin and handed it over, slipping another against it for good measure. As he scooped the apple from the tiny hand he first looked to see the woman, stewing between repulsion at Crowley but caught in her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good day," she snorted before turning to leave inside a shop, shutting the door behind herself. Crowley smoothly lifted the apple for a bite and just as placidly tried to spy the White Knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was gone, like a fairy tale dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn't feel his gaze anymore, and instead felt the normal eyes of the passing crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you a knight?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley bit into the apple and stared at the inquiring child, still there and very much unafraid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yup, sure am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grinned again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like your horse," she chirped. "He's pretty."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley smiled at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks. He is. His name is Bentley."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bentley turned his long questioning face back at the mention of his name and shuffled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child was petting Bentley's nearest leg, to which was pretty much all of their height.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She suddenly dashed to the cart, slipped an apple from under the cover, and carefully slid back up beside the horse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, no thank you," Crowley chuckled. "The extra coin is for you, this is just fine..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For Bentley!" she whispered sidestepping up to his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She carefully held it out to the giant soft nose as the lips flapped around the apple. She tittered at the touch and at Bentley crunching loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Sigh, hasn't even asked about my eyes or why I look different. Even if she did, she would just want to know why. I'm just another Knight with a very nice horse. Children are so pure at this age."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley swallowed another bite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, may I ask? Which way is the fastest to the Churchyard?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child pointed up the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That way! Keep goin' the way The Knight went!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks. I'll do that." Crowley grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl curtsied again with a proud grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley grinned and narrowed his eyes back as he discreetly pressed Bentley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving a head bob that rippled his luscious mane, Bentley stooped slightly and tucked a leg under himself in a bow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl screeched with delight. Bentley righted and bound into a trot up the nearly empty street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley could feel other eyes watching his performance, and for an instant, it wasn't all judgemental. There was amusement, humor, and even jealousy at such a well trained horse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Well, a few tricks up my sleeve, some charm, staying out of trouble, and perhaps this city won't be such a bad choice."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Church Bell rang out once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley exhaled his loudest, staring into the glistening black mane in front of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"If I can make it into the bloody churchyard without acting like I'm being burnt alive..."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tada, warm up time. Talk talk. There are some points I'll clean up and add to, but I felt you all deserved this for the anniversary. </p><p>Archbishop Derek is based on the Metatron played by Derek Jacobi.</p><p>Quiet establishing of characters, more building to come.</p><p>Apples are again the catalyst for their meeting. </p><p>For anyone who hasn't read Ladycrowe or doesn't get the drift, Crowley feels when he's being watched and can get a vibe of what they think. Sometimes. More explained later. </p><p>Thank you all again for sticking with me over the year!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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